April laughed, having just heard the story of how their seats were vacated. The leader of a Boy Scout troop discovered that they were one member short. “Where’s Henry McManus?” he asked his boys. No one knew. And then Travis Wilmore—an Eagle Scout—raised his hand. “He might have gone to get something from McDonald’s to take on the plane.” The Scout leader was livid. “What? That line was a mile long!” he said. He reported the missing member to a flight attendant, but even after several announcements over the airport intercom system, Mr. McManus could not be found.

“C’mon, boys!” said the leader. “A troop never leaves a member behind!”

“This one does!” said Eagle Scout Wilmore. The Scout leader promptly tore a merit badge from the astonished boy’s shirt. He then proceeded to march out of the plane, his entire troop behind him, including the emasculated Eagle Scout.

“I wonder if they give merit badges for snarfing french fries,” the man in the Hawaiian shirt said as April sat down across from him.

April smiled. But her mind had wandered. She took out her cell phone, seeing that she still had a couple minutes before she’d be forced to put it away. She dialed information.

A woman at the hospital answered. April inquired whether her mother had been admitted as a patient there and was transferred to a nurse. Yes, came the reply. The nurse described how difficult Rose had already made life for the nurses on her floor. That would be my mother, thought April. Do you need to speak with her? No need, April said. She just wanted to make sure Rose was okay.

Feeling secure that her mother and therefore Charlie were in the safe haven of the medical establishment, April dialed information again, this time getting the number for Dr. Winter’s hospital. She punched in the number.

“Hi. I’m trying to reach a patient. Last name Winter?”

The operator connected her, and a nurse answered his room extension.

“We’re prepping Dr. Winter for surgery. You’ll have to call back.”

“Oh, please. This is his . . . um . . . sister . . . and I really need to speak with him.”

“Sister? What’s your name?”

April had a brief loss of functionality before coming up with a name. “Wanda,” she said. “Wanda Winter.” She slapped her forehead. She sounded like a character from a Roald Dahl book.

“Wanda Winter, huh?” The nurse covered the receiver and said something to her patient. After a pause, April heard Dr. Winter’s voice.

“So good to hear from my dear beloved sister! I thought you were dead!”

April felt even more stupid. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I never talked much about my family at the library. Not like you, anyway.”

“How are you doing?” April asked, redirecting the conversation.